


frozen strawberries and dostoyevsky

by Brinny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Short & Sweet, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 04:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brinny/pseuds/Brinny
Summary: after carefully peeling off the rest of his suit, mj helps him into the tub with slow and steady hands. she climbs in after him, still in her shirt and sweatpants and socks.and peter doesn't think that he's ever loved her more.





	frozen strawberries and dostoyevsky

peter comes home one night broken and bleeding. 

he climbs through the window of their five-story walk-up and promptly falls to the floor with a loud thump. startled, mj jumps, spilling earl grey on her dostoyevsky.

“pete? peter, what happened?”

tugging off his mask, peter struggles to stand, but his legs slide out from under him. he keeps one hand held tightly to his chest, wheezing with every heavy breath.

“big dude. enormous. huge. really, big.”

mj rushes to the freezer and grabs the first cold thing she can find. 

“here,” she says as she presses a bag of frozen strawberries against his ribs. and when he hisses in pain: “oh, sorry. i'm so sorry.” 

“nah. no, it's okay. i'm fine. promise.”

peter slowly strips off the top half of his spidey suit to show her that it's really not that bad. except that it is bad. like, really bad. his chest is covered in a heavy pattern of bruises, all black and blue. he frowns and groans out, “aw, shit.”

mj frowns back at him and firmly pushes the frozen fruit back in place. the bag has a small tear in the bottom and sticky juice stains their skin: pink and black and blue. 

“jesus, pete. what the hell?”

“i told you. really big dude,” he says again. and then he smiles, all soft and sorry. he catches her lips in a quick kiss, but her mouth doesn't yield under his. “babe, don't worry. i'm fine. i won. obviously.”

“oh, obviously,” she agrees with roll of her eyes. 

“michelle, i'm okay. honest.”

“c'mon then,” she says, pulling him to his feet. “let's get you cleaned up.”

 

 

after carefully peeling off the rest of his suit, mj helps him into the tub with slow and steady hands. she climbs in after him, still in her shirt and sweatpants and socks. 

and peter doesn't think that he's ever loved her more. 

 

 

later that night they lay in bed with wet hair and damp skin. 

peter curls himself around her, his head to her breast, as she dances the tips of her fingers along the top of his ear, up to his temple, and over his jaw. 

with a book held in her other hand, mj reads from the tea-soaked pages:

“ _it was partly the fact of her marvellous beauty that struck him, and partly something else. there was a suggestion of immense pride and disdain in the face almost of hatred, and at the same time something confiding and very full of simplicity._ ” 

peter looks up at her. smiling, he says, “keep going.”

“yeah?” she asks. 

reaching around to grab her roaming hand, he presses a soft kiss to her palm. “yeah.”

“ _the contrast aroused a deep sympathy in his heart as he looked at the lovely face. the blinding loveliness of it was almost intolerable, this pale thin face with its flaming eyes; it was a strange beauty._ ”

and peter was wrong before. because he's definitely never loved her more than right now. 

“mj?” he says, questioning. 

“hmm?”

“i'm sorry. for before. for scaring you. if i scared you, i mean.”

she sort of frowns. “yeah. you're sure that you're okay, though, right?”

“yep.” he kisses her hand again (mouth brushing over her knuckles this time), before threading his fingers through hers. “long as i got you.”

“oh my god,” she breathes out. “you are such a dork.”

**Author's Note:**

> kind of inspired by "bruises" by chairlift. inasmuch as there are bruises and frozen strawberries. 
> 
>  
> 
> also, the text is from "the idiot" by fyodor dostoyevsky.


End file.
